Mildly Distracted
by little nell
Summary: WARNING: Light slash. Frodo is ill at ease, but will Aragorn be able comfort him? Set in FOTR timeline, before Moria. R&R?...


Title: Mildly Distracted  
  
Author: Little Nell ~ pyromanicalpikachu@hotmail.com  
  
Pairing: A/F 1/?  
  
Rating: PG-13 because it has two boys kissing in it *g*  
  
Summary: Frodo is feeling distracted and Aragorn is able to offer him some comfort. Don't you just love him?  
  
Archive: Help yourselves, guys. Just tell me where it's going.  
  
Spoilers: None really...unless you haven't seen the movie...or read the books...or don't know who the characters are....ah-hem...  
  
Warnings: If slash offends you...then what the hell are you doing here? No. Um...nothing serious. Baby stuff, really.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own, so don't sue. You'll get nothing. Nothing I tell you! muahahahaaaa...  
  
Frodo studied the point of his sword in the moonlight. To be a sword must be a futile existence, he thought. What kind of life could a sword have? Even one so exquisite as Sting. Used only for slicing through one's enemies, coated in their vile blood. Only then to be rinsed or wiped on a rag, and re-sheathed, forgotten until the next time they were needed.  
  
"Be careful Frodo. If you allow your mind to wander too far, you will cut yourself. A sword such as Sting is no toy." Frodo was immediately brought out of his trance and jumped in surprise. He cocked his head to one side slightly, acutely aware of the silence between them in contrast to the deafening sounds of the forest. Frodo offered no answer to the Man.  
  
He was surrounded by a veil of smoke, a pipe clamped firmly between his lips, the glowing end illuminating his face.  
  
The buttery moonlight melting off the tree trunks gave little comfort tonight. As Frodo well knew, it would offer less and less light as the weeks wore on until he would be forced to face the infinite darkness of these foreign lands alone. The Man spoke once more and Frodo admired the strange lilt that his voice carried after a lifetime of being raised by the Elves.  
  
"The Instruments of the Dark Lord would smell the blood of the Ringbearer."  
  
Frodo looked at the finely crafted sword, but found himself unable to push it away. He re-sheathed it and let it rest in his lap, his thoughts in quiet disarray after having been interrupted. How could anyone find them here? They were in the middle of a vast forest. Frodo himself did not know where the Fellowship were going. As if to answer his call, a group of birds seemed to hurl themselves from the treetops. Frodo gripped his sword more tightly.  
  
"Do you ever feel afraid?" he asked. The candid question seemed to surprised Aragorn, and he looked puzzled and slightly amused at it.  
  
Frodo's gaze swung to the carpet of moss beneath him, suddenly finding great interest in it, and trying to hide his embarrassment. He must have underestimated the sensitivity of the Man, for he said nothing. He tested the moss. It was soft and one could almost go unnoticed when walking upon it, like a bed or a carpet. He took a deep breath and let his eyes slip closed, revelling in the sounds around him.  
  
Frodo answered the question himself, for he felt fear as well as the power of the Ring. Every time someone slipped, or a breath of icy wind flew past, he felt it. What if something should happen to one of them? He shivered, remembering the feeling he had when he first put on the Ring. It felt evil and yet he was also drawn to its power in the strangest way.  
  
When he opened his eyes again, he found Aragorn seated next to him.  
  
"Do not feel fear Frodo. We are all here to protect you. Do not feel that you must carry this burden alone."  
  
Frodo suddenly felt more self-conscious than afraid. Aragorn was sitting awfully close to him. Perhaps he was cold?  
  
A large hand rose to brush hair out of his eyes gently and his thumb swept down Frodo's face. Aragorn could not place the feelings he felt for Frodo. He felt they were inappropriate, however he also desired to protect and care for the young Hobbit. Their eyes met and each one tasted the sweet breath of the other. Frodo tensed and his blood began to pound in his ears. Slowly, Aragorn leaned in and kissed him softly, his hand gently moving to the back of his head.  
  
Frodo felt as if his insides were melting into a puddle and tentatively raised a hand to Aragorn's neck, kissing the Man back. The pair shifted slightly, to get more comfortable and Frodo felt Aragorn's other hand on his back.  
  
The thin, harmonical wail of a wraith rose through the forest, interrupting the pair's embrace. Frodo's sword landed on the mossy ground with an unnatural thud. He felt his cheeks redden as the Man rose and went back to where he had been sitting previously and he found he felt strangely disappointed. He looked up to the sound of feet padding softly. Legolas.  
  
"Aragorn, we must leave now. The Nine are approaching from the South."  
  
Aragorn offered only a clipped nod in reply, fearing that his voice might fail him at this moment. Legolas turned swiftly on his heel, seemingly not noticing the tension between the pair. It was only then that Frodo realised he has been holding his breath, and he let it out in a rush.  
  
"On your feet, Frodo."  
  
The words surprised him slightly but he swallowed thickly and accepted the hand which pulled him to his feet. He bent to pick up Sting and followed Aragorn into the forest to the others.  
  
That night, Frodo enjoyed the sounds of the forest around him and now they seemed like beautiful music rather than the annoyance it had been earlier. As the Fellowship walked on, he felt more at peace with himself than he had throughout this whole ordeal. He licked his lips, remembering the kiss and had a feeling that he wouldn't be feeling distracted anymore.  
  
~fin~ 


End file.
